Dropping down quietly beside him Harriet saw that his eyes were closed and he breathed heavily as though sleeping. For once all tension was drained away from his features, the mouth softened, gentle, as though it had never said a harsh or bitter word. She knelt there awhile, watching his unshaven face, the hair falling over his forehead and the dark shadows beneath his eyes, feeling a tenderness he’d never inspired in her before. She knew he would hate the idea of being studied like this, while he was vulnerable and unaware, but she lingered one more moment-just one more-

He opened his eyes.

Instead of being angry he surprised her again, simply sitting motionless, gazing at her so long that she wondered if he actually saw her. At last the dazed look faded from his eyes, replaced by a helpless pain.

‘You still speaking to me?’ he said at last.

She nodded. There was a lump in her throat.

He sighed and dropped his head onto the arm across his knee. ‘That’s more than I deserve,’ he said in a muffled voice. He raised his head. ‘I guess I had too much to drink.’

‘I didn’t see you drinking very much.’

‘You weren’t there to see-’ he checked himself with a shrug. ‘Forget it.’

‘Have you been out here all night?’

‘Since I left you, yes.’

‘I thought you were going home.’

‘I had to get away from you, but I couldn’t leave you, if that makes any sense.’

It made perfect sense. Since he’d stormed out last night she’d felt a persistent tug in her heart, as though it was connected to his by an invisible thread. Now she knew that he had felt it, too.

She sat down properly beside him, took one of his cold hands and began to rub it. He let her, seemingly too drained to react, but his eyes were on her hand, minus the ring.

‘I haven’t looked for it yet,’ she explained. ‘It could be anywhere in that big room. Suppose we never find it?’

His answer was the faintest possible shrug. After a moment his fingers moved to grasp hers. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked quietly.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Did I-hurt you?’

It was there again; the force of his mouth against hers, bruising, crushing, driving her wild with its ruthless persistence: the feelings still lived in her flesh, excitement, alarm, the joy of risk-taking, never known before.

‘No, you didn’t hurt me,’ she said.

‘Are you sure? I have a hellish temper, I’m afraid.’

‘You weren’t trying to hurt me.’

‘No,’ he said huskily. ‘No, I was trying to make you aware of me.’ His mouth quirked faintly at the corner. ‘When I was a child I used to cope with frustration by roaring at the top of my voice. Then people listened.’

‘Yes, I think I would have guessed something like that,’ she said gently.

‘Time I grew out of it, huh?’

‘People don’t stop being the way they are. You don’t frighten me.’

‘Thank God! Because that’s the last thing I’d ever want. Please Harriet, forget everything about last night.’

‘Everything? You mean-?’

‘Every last damned thing,’ he said emphatically. ‘Go to Manelli’s house whenever you like. There’ll be no more trouble, I promise. What’s past is past. It was a kind of madness, no more.’

‘But Marco, what got into you? It wasn’t drink, I know that.’

‘I can’t explain, but there are some things I’m not-rational about. Let’s just say that I get jealous easily. And possessive. It’s not nice. I apologise.’

‘You have nothing to be jealous about.’

‘I know. But there are things I can’t forget.’

‘About the other woman, the one you were going to marry?’

He stirred. ‘What do you know about her?’

‘Not much. You were engaged, then you both changed your mind.’

A long silence, then he said as though the words were dredged up from some fearful depths. ‘It was a little more complicated than that.’

‘Break ups aren’t usually completely equal,’ she suggested tentatively.

He nodded. ‘Something of the kind. Whatever! It makes me act unreasonably, and I’m sorry.’

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, thinking that she’d never in her life seen a man so unhappy.

‘When you find the ring,’ he said wearily, ‘will you wear it again?’

She hesitated. ‘I don’t know.’

‘If you leave now-so soon after last night-’ he gave a bark of laughter. ‘That’ll give the gossips something to talk about. And also-’ he grew quiet again ‘-it would hurt my mother badly.’

‘I won’t leave-for the moment.’

‘Thank you.’

Suddenly he leaned forward, resting his head against her in an attitude of despondency, almost of despair, she thought. Her arms went about him and she held him close, longing to comfort him, but knowing that there was a part of him she still couldn’t reach. She dropped her own head, resting her cheek against his dishevelled hair, and tried to tell him, through the strength of her embrace, that she was there for him. She thought she felt his arms tighten about her, as though he’d found something he needed to cling to.

They sat motionless while the warmth stole through her. Not the warmth of passion: something quite different and far more alarming. While they fought she could hold out against him, even in the face of her own desire. But his sudden vulnerability shook desire into a fierce longing to protect him that was suspiciously like love.

Disaster! She hadn’t meant to love him, wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was a trap and she’d fallen into it before she knew it was there.

Why couldn’t you have gone on driving me nuts? she thought. It was easier then. This isn’t fair.

He stirred and she released him. He pushed back his hair, which immediately fell over his forehead again. ‘I suppose I look like a tramp?’

‘A bit,’ she said tenderly.

He started to get up and winced. ‘I’m stiff!’

‘If you’ve been here all night I’m not surprised. Let me help.’

He slipped an arm about her neck and got painfully to his feet, scooping up his leaf-stained jacket.

‘The ground’s damp,’ she said. ‘You could catch pneumonia like this.’

‘I used to sleep out a lot when I was a kid. Just over there in the woods, there’s a place where I’d make a camp and pretend I was an outlaw.’

‘Show me.’ She wanted to prolong this gentle time with him.

‘All right.’

Still with his arm around her shoulders he guided her through the trees and up a steep slope to a clearing. ‘This is where I used to sleep out under the stars,’ he said.

‘It’s a wonderful view.’

‘Yes, “the enemy” couldn’t approach you unaware.’

‘Unless they came from above,’ she pointed out. ‘But I expect you posted sentries. How many of you were there?’

‘Just me. I used to envy Leo and Guido who were brothers and had each other. Actually they were separated when Guido was ten, and Uncle Francesco took him to live in Venice, leaving Leo in Tuscany. But I always thought of them as having each other.’

‘It’s a pity you didn’t have any brothers and sisters.’

‘My father died early, and Mamma never wanted to marry again.’

‘But surely you had some friends?’

He shrugged. ‘At school.’

But none for his fantasy life, she thought, pitying the lonely little boy. She thought of how much easier he was when surrounded by the rest of the boisterous Calvani family, like a man who would gladly be one of them, but always felt slightly apart.

‘You can see almost as far as Rome from this spot,’ he said. ‘At night I used to sit under this tree and watch the lights. Just here.’ He put his jacket on the ground and indicated for her to sit on it beside him.

‘You too,’ she said, making room for him.

They sat quietly together as the light expanded and the sound of birdsong grew louder. His hand had found its way into hers.

‘This is a wonderful place,’ she said. ‘I can understand you wanting to come here often.’

There was no answer, and she became aware of a weight on her shoulder. Turning, she found his head lying against her, his eyes closed again.

Now she saw something else in his face. He was weary in a way that had nothing to do with missed sleep. Strain and tension had fallen away, but they left behind a bone-deep exhaustion that looked as if it had been there a long time, perhaps years.

She’d never thought to pity Marco, but she pitied him now in a way that she didn’t entirely understand. But there would be time to learn about him, and reach out to the trouble deep within him. Gently she brushed the hair back from his forehead.

He stirred and opened his eyes, looking straight into her smiling ones.

‘You fell asleep again,’ she said tenderly.

‘Yes-’ he sounded unsure of himself. ‘How long?’

‘Just a few minutes.’

Then she saw the look that she’d dreaded, as though shutters had come down. Light faded from his eyes, leaving a deliberate emptiness as he withdrew back into the comfortless place within himself. He pulled away from her and got to his feet, not letting her assist him this time, but offering his own hand to help her up. She took it, rising so quickly that she almost lost her balance. He steadied her with his other hand on her arm, but didn’t draw her close, as he could so easily have done.

With dismay she realised that it was all gone, the warmth and communication that had been there before. Now his eyes were watchful. Perhaps he was even more wary of her because he’d allowed her to draw near.

‘What time is it?’ he asked, consulting his watch. ‘Past seven. I’ve got to be going. I’m sorry for putting all this onto you.’

‘I’m glad we talked,’ she said, seeking a way back to him. ‘I understand you better now.’

He shrugged. ‘What is there to understand? I behaved badly, for which I’m sorry. You’ve been very patient, but there’s no reason for you to put up with my moods. I won’t inflict them on you again.’